Smile 2
by lunartick
Summary: Oneshot. Really sad story ok! Just another fic, mainly from Yamazaki's point of view, about Okita's smile. Non yaoi. Read and review people!


Hi, people! This is the second installment in the Smile series. Hmm… I just read book 5 of the manga, and I was so sad I cried. It's like, everything is just breaking apart, and Okita is dying, and I just had to find a way to vent my grief, so here's another story.

Eh… just to let you know, I wrote this story with tears streaming down my face and snot dripping out of my nose, so if it really isn't that good, I'm sorry. Also, I have no idea when characters die, so if someone in this fic is alive when he should be six feet under… oops?

And this is non-yaoi and not shonen-ai ok? I don't do that stuff.

Anyway, PMK doesn't belong to me for various reasons. Mainly, I didn't draw it.

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**Smile 2 **

Gripping his chest painfully, he heaved himself off the futon. Glancing frantically at the door, he grabbed the blanket and buried his face in it. The silence of the night was broken by a wet, sucking sound that was followed by a harsh, painful tearing coughed.

Slowly, he removed the blanket from his face and stared at the bloodied blanket. He touched the side of his mouth; ruby droplets dripped down his fingers and stained his nails. Trembling, he swallowed, tasting the salty, coppery taste of blood.

How many times had his fingers been stained this colour? How many times had the smell and taste of blood invaded his senses and driven him wild? Always, those were the blood of others, the life-force of others. Now, this was his blood.

On his fingers, the warm blood eventually cooled, like the life-force had gone out of it.

A grunt.

Startled, Okita looked down. "Ah… Saizou," he greeted, a smile stretching naturally over his face, "I'm ok, don't worry."

The pig continued to stare at him. Not once did the frustrated look drop from the pig's face, yet there was something almost… accusing about the look. Little by little, the sides of his lips drooped and his head dropped in defeat.

"You're right, Saizou," he whispered, "I'm not ok. How can I be ok when the smell of blood is permanently etched in my senses?" A bolt of fear shot through him and he gripped his chest tightly, eyes shut as he tried to chase down the wretchedly familiar emotion. "How can I be ok?"

Perhaps sensing his master's pain or just wanting to be close to the only person he ever considered family, Saizou tunneled into his master's embrace and stayed there, eyes fixed on his master's face.

"There is no hope for me, you know?" his master whispered. "Sooner or later, I am going to die. It's… I've never thought I would die. Even after all these years of fighting, you think you know what death is, think that you have accepted it, but when it comes… when it has finally come… I'm terrified."

Saizou jerked, surprised as drops of water started to fall from his master's face.

"I'm terrified," his master whispered again then held him against his chest as he sobbed softly into the blanket. "I don't want to die," he cried, voice breaking, "I really don't want to die. I don't want to." Saizou remained still, staring into the wall as his master curled up on the bed, his face buried in the futon as he wept for that he had lost, and that he would soon lose.

In the ceiling boards, Yamazaki sat stoically, staring at the useless prescription in his hands, and tried to chase away the unfamiliar melee of emotions that surfaced at the sound of the cries.

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"Okita-san! Okita-san!"

Okita looked up from Saizou just in time to see Tetsunosuke round the corner of the building, waving his arms enthusiastically. "Ah, Tetsu!" he greeted, smiling brilliantly. "What's the matter? Is Hijikata-san after your blood again?" He laughed. In one corner, Yamazaki frowned as Tetsu rushed up to Okita. Could the boy not hear the wet fluid sound Okita made when he laughed?

"Look what I've got for you!" Tetsu crowed. He raised a brown bag with a flourish. "Candy!"

"Candy!" Okita echoed, looking excited. "How wonderful!"

Yamazaki started up from his place, intent on stopping his patient from consuming the harmful snacks then hesitated. Despite the enthusiasm in Okita's voice, he hadn't made to eat the food.

"I got it from your favourite store," Tetsu went on, not noticing Okita's odd behaviour, "Hijikata-san told me that you were ill, so I thought I would bring some candy to cheer you up!" He grinned proudly as Okita laughed again. Yamazaki winced as that laughter induced coughing.

"Thank you very much, Tetsu-chan," Okita said, his voice slightly teasing as he slid his hand under the blanket and wiped it discreetly, "But it's so much candy, I couldn't possibly finish everything on my own. Would you like to share with me?"

"No, it's for you!" Tetsu insisted.

"Don't be silly," Okita grinned, opening the bag and offering it to Tetsu, "stay and chat with me. I'm bored, and Yamazaki-san is no fun." The shinobi jerked in surprise as suddenly the attention of both people were on him.

"Um…" he began, avoiding Okita's stare. "Right." Even as he looked down, he saw awkwardness and humiliation flash across the sick man's face, chasing away the brilliant smile for a second.

"Anyway," Tetsu went on, oblivious to the brief exchange, "do you think Hijikata-san would let me stay here for a while? I really want to talk with you, Okita-san!"

"Of course," Okita giggled, "if I beg him, he'll relent."

"Yeah," Tetsu replied, laughing also, "Okita-san's the best at getting stuff out of people. Once you get better, perhaps you can help me convince him that letting me learn ken-jutsu isn't such a bad idea! Hell, you could teach me!"

"Of course I could," Okita replied, smiling.

Yamazaki stared fixedly on the cup of tea he was preparing. There hadn't even been a flash of sadness or regret; only a smile.

"But let's not just talk," Okita went on, "go on, eat some candy!"

"Oh well…" Tetsu glanced hesitantly to the bag before picking up a piece. "Thanks, Okita-san."

"Oh, don't mention it," Okita laughed, picking up a piece himself. "So, how has your day been, Tetsu?"

"Oh boring," Tetsu replied, munching on the candy contentedly, "It was just serving tea the whole day long."

"Oh really?"

Yamazaki noted that Okita did not put the candy in his mouth like he once would have done.

"Mm, and I swear I saw Hijikata-san writing another haiku!"

"Oh? I would love to see that!"

"Nah, he wouldn't let you! But once you get better, you can go and steal it from him again!"

"Yeah… I could…" Yamazaki stared at his feet, trying to stop himself from noticing the hint of sadness that surfaced in Okita's voice.

"We could do just that!" Tetsu went on, jumping to his feet in excitement. "You could steal it and we would read it together. Then once Hijikata-san finds out, he'll chase you all over the place, but you could just pass it to me!" He grinned. "But this time, we must be careful not to pass it to Yamazaki-san or he'll just give it back to Hijkata-san! Right, Okita-san?"

Okita looked up and met the cheerful brown eyes. "Yes," he replied, smiling. "We could do just that. It would be fun, wouldn't it?"

Tetsu tilted his head in confusion. "Don't sound so sad," he encouraged, "once you get better, we will do it! You will get better soon, right?"

"Out." Before he realized what was happening, Yamazaki found himself picking the boy by the collar and dragging him towards the door.

"Hey! What's up?" Tetsu shouted, spilling candy as he struggled to escape the shinobi's grip.

"Okita-san needs his rest, and you're disturbing it," Yamazaki shot back, "now go back to your master."

"Wh… I'll be back later!" Tetsu managed to call around the door just before Yamazaki slammed it shut.

There was a tensed silence in the room. Then Yamazaki picked up the brown bag. "You're sick," he said tersely, "you shouldn't eat candy."

He was greeted by silence. When he finally dared to raise his eyes, he was startled to be greeted by a smile.

"Yamazaki-san is a great spy," Okita said, beaming, "nothing escapes your eyes, no?"

Silence.

"You saw that I did not eat the candy."

"… Yes."

Trembling fingers picked up one round ball and raised it to purplish black eyes. "I used to love these," Okita murmured, "but nowadays, I barely eat them anymore. I can't force them down." He smiled as the shinobi kept his back facing him. "Everything tastes like blood nowadays. It takes all the fun out of eating candy."

Yet again, Yamazaki declined from answering.

"You shouldn't be so harsh on Tetsu."

"… I don't think I was harsh."

Okita raised his eyebrows as Yamazaki turned around to face him, his face blank. "I think you are the one being harsh."

"Am I?"

"You shouldn't let him think that you're ok."

"Why not?"

"It will only hurt him more."

"Hmm?" Much to Yamazaki's annoyance, Okita greeted his comments with a huge smile. "I can only tell Yamazaki-san, because Yamazaki-san is the only one who knows how bad my condition is," he said, "but you see, I'm not being harsh, I'm being selfish."

"Selfish?" Yamazaki demanded, exasperated.

"Oh yes," Okita said, nodding solemnly, "very selfish, because you see, Yamazaki-san…"

Yamazaki watched as the smile slowly vanished, and the façade dropped. "Because you see," Okita whispered, "if everyone knew… if everyone found out I was dying, and everyone looks upon me as a dying man, I would believe that I'm dying… would always remember that I'm dying… and I would forget to live."

There was a long silence as the shinobi searched for an answer, but found none.

"Yamazaki-san?"

"Wh… yes?"

"Next time," Okita whispered, settling down on his futon and closing his eyes, "don't stay in my ceiling, ok?"

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In the dark, Yamazaki sat curled up between the ceiling boards, staring into the shadows ahead of him. Below him came the sounds of wretched coughing and concerned grunting.

He stared harder and recalled the smile. Always, the man smiled, to comfort his friends, to comfort his brothers, to comfort himself. The mask was forever kept on, to keep himself from remembering that Death was just two steps behind him.

In the room, the coughs turned to soft whisperings.

Yamazaki squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears as the helpless sobbing of a dying man carried through the boards.

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Every samurai is supposed to take death as a mere passing. To the one who walks by the codes of bushido, death is no different from life, and should be faced with stoicism.

While Yamazaki was no samurai, he believed deeply in that value. It was an inherent part of being a shinobi after all.

Now, as he sat beside the bloodstained bed, clutching the cold, limp hand, the teaching floated through the numbness that seemed to have consumed his body.

Okita Souji had not died peacefully with no fear, like he should have. As the death throes had set in, his eyes had widened, the pupils shrinking; his entire body had went into spasms, and he had cried out, blood spilling from the pale, dried lips. Then he had sucked in one last desperate breath before sinking back into the futon an empty shell.

Throughout, as his doctor and friend, Yamazaki had sat there, holding Okita's hand in his right, and the squealing, panicky pig in his left. All this time, like his training had taught him, he had stared at the man with no emotion on his face.

He had shed no tears when Okita had cried out in pain, had shown no grief as the thin, destroyed body struggled against Death. In his hand, the cold limb had jerked and thrashed, had gripped him with a ferocity so strong it had drawn blood. And he had done nothing but stare at the floor.

The pig had gone silent by his side, leaning against him quietly, already deep in grief. Yet, he could not bring himself, the human, to mourn the lost of a great warrior.

"Souji!" The door burst open suddenly and Hijikata entered.

There was a long silence as the men stared at the still body then his superior sat down next to him, his back bent, defeated.

"Hijikata-san…"

"At least he died peacefully."

Yamazaki looked up and stared at his superior.

"Didn't he?" Hijikata asked, his chin trembling slightly. "It says so on his face."

Startled, Yamazaki turned and stared at the dead man's face. The face was now relaxed, like the man was merely sleeping, deep in a dream. The eyes were closed – and the lips were turned up at the corners in a slight smile.

So even in death, the façade had been kept up. Even death, he would cheat his comrades into believing he had taken everything in stride, that he had not suffered at all.

Slowly, the tears started to fall as he lowered his head and quietly mourned the lost of a man who suffered, who fought, and who finally lost the war.

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Yeah, I'm seriously crying now.

I just wanted to do a fic that showed how much Okita suffered, because he did. I have asthma, so I have a vague idea of how it must be to live each day without being able to breathe properly and everything. I can only imagine how terrible it must be to know that you are going to die soon, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it. Yamazaki was there mainly to reflect how Okita felt.

I don't know why, but my heart really goes out to Okita. I really can't stand the thought that he had suffered in silence or by himself without anyone knowing how he felt, so I wanted Yamazaki and Saizou at least to have vague ideas of how he really felt.

So yep, this is it. My first sad story in almost a year, I think. Love it, hate it? Do tell!


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